


The past is never dead

by JYeffect



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-10 21:59:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10448490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JYeffect/pseuds/JYeffect
Summary: A year after resigning his position as the captain of the Musketeers, Athos lived a happy life - together with Sylvie and his daughter. Or at least, that's what he likes to believe.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, missyukisakura made me do it. She gave me an idea and I had to write something with it. Too good to pass up on. She told me to publish it, so here I am. It’s kinda only like a prologue, so technically, there’s no Milathos interaction just yet, but things from Athos’ POV for now. Either way, it’s the very first time I actually post some of my writing for other’s to read. So, if you read this, thank you. If you like it, I’ll love you. ANYWAY, HERE GOES NOTHING.

Athos stood in the doorway of their bedroom, watching Sylvie and their daughter sleep for a moment, before turning around and making his way to the small study he had. 

It had been a year since he had taken his _temporary_ leave from the Musketeers. By now, they had returned back to Paris and had rented a small place, big enough for the three of them. He had yet to return to the Musketeers, and instead worked some odd jobs here and there to make a living. Even though Sylvie encouraged him to return to the regiment, Athos thought it his duty to be there for his family, _without_ risking his life day in, day out. Without making Sylvie worry about whether he would be coming home that night, or if she had to come collect him in a morgue. 

And he was happy, he truly was. Or, at least, that’s what he told himself at every possible occasion; that’s what he tried to make himself believe over and over again. 

It wasn’t that his life was bad, it just didn’t feel like his life at all. Athos felt as if he was living the life of another. He had never been the homely, picture-perfect-family type of person. Not back when he had been the Comte de la Fère and not now. The lack of freedom, the lack of adventure and the lack of risk.. It felt suffocating. 

But - his family was his duty now. And Athos had always been a man of duty - and honor. 

Sitting down on the chair in his study, Athos sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. At the same time, his eyes searched for something on his desk. Once they found it, he reached out - though his hand hesitated and lingered in the air for a moment - before he finally picked it up. 

“Even after all this time, you refuse to let me live in peace,” Athos muttered to himself, while he held the glove in his hand as if it was the most valuable thing in the world. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t love Sylvie; he did, he truly did. Something that he had never thought possible, before meeting her. He adored her determination, her stubbornness, her rebelliousness; he loved her caring nature, her willingness to help anyone and the patience she had when dealing both with him, and their daughter. She was caring and gentle, but had no problem setting him straight when he needed it. 

_But she wasn’t her._

Tracing his fingertips along the fabric of the glove, Athos overcame with memories. Good ones, bad ones, but most of all, painful ones. He had never loved anyone as he had loved Anne or Milady, and no matter how much he tried, he never would. That much he was aware of and that much he was willing to admit to himself. 

It was ironic, wasn’t it? The one person you couldn’t let go, could never shake off, was the one person who had hurt you the most. The one person who had lied to you about everything, had betrayed you, used you and had tried to kill you. Not that he had been any better, if he was honest. 

They both had pretended to hate each other to the core, when in all reality, they had never been able to let each other go. Had never been able to stop loving each other. 

And that was something that hadn’t changed until this day. 

Though Athos was sure he had made the right decision when he had chosen to abandon Milady for Sylvie. They were poison for each other, destructive at any given opportunity. While with Sylvie it was supportive and healthy. 

_But still, she wasn’t her._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Athos, with the help of Sylvie, makes a rather important decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, technically Milady still isn’t in this part, but it’s an rather essential build-up. So please bear with me, we’ll get there somehow. Either way, I’ve been having a lot of fun writing this one and the whole thing in general. Starting to kind of get used to the whole FF thing. (A little, anyway. Still trying to switch from RP to FF mode.)
> 
> And no, unfortunately I'm not always this fast in writing things. I just published the first part on tumblr two days ago, before being talked into posting it here too. Totally wish I was though. Also, I totally suck at summaries.

“It’s hers, isn’t it?” 

The voice that broke the peaceful silence, made Athos flinch and drop the glove he had been holding in his hand. He had been so deep in thought, that he hadn’t heard Sylvie approach. 

Shifting his eyes from the glove that was now laying on the floor up to Sylvie, he saw her standing in the door frame with crossed arms. Athos opened his mouth to say something, but remained silent in the end. He knew denying the obvious would just make things worse. What would he say anyway? ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about’? 

Instead, he dropped his gaze again and sighed quietly, while his hands clung to the chair. “It’s okay, Athos.” Her voice was soft, and much to his surprise, free from any accusation, or anger. He could hear her walk towards him, which made him look up at her. “It’s.. Just a token from someone in my past.” 

“Is that really all it is?” Sylvie walked up to the desk and picked up the glove, eyed it for a moment, before sitting down on the desk. “I have watched you treasure that glove for the past year, Athos.” She held out the glove to him and, after a moment of hesitation, Athos reached for it and took it back. 

Had he truly been so obvious? The only time he had even as much as glanced at the glove had been at night, after Sylvie was asleep. He had no idea she even knew about it’s existence. “It’s the glove of the woman that truly has a hold of your heart.” 

Those words took Athos entirely by surprise and left him speechless for longer than he would have liked. It wasn’t even a question, it was a statement, an observation. “I- No, no that’s not what it is. Sylvie..” 

Sylvie dropped her head, but instead of being mad, or disappointed, or anything of that kind, she chuckled softly. “You’re a horrible liar, you know that?” Scooting closer, Sylvie reached up and gently cupped Athos’ cheek, before leaning in so she’d be on his eye level. “I am not naive, dear Athos. I can tell when someone’s mind is somewhere else. And your mind has not been with me in quite some time.” Then, her smile faltered and she sighed quietly, before dropping her hand. 

Athos felt a stab of guilt in his chest, though didn’t know what to do about it. So instead of saying or doing something, he just sat there. Sat there as if he didn’t care when he honestly did. But emotions and comforting someone had never been his strong suit. 

“You don’t even notice it yourself, do you? How you have distanced yourself and how you have started to shut me out. How you look at me differently; even your touch doesn’t feel the same anymore. And I know you try to hide it, most likely even refuse to admit it to yourself, but I can feel it. Something has changed and you’re slipping away.” Sylvie smiled again, but it was a sorrowful smile. A smile that broke his heart and made him want to pull her into his arms and tell her everything was going to be okay. 

But he couldn’t, because they both knew it didn’t seem to be the truth. 

There was silence for a long while, as neither was really sure what to say. “I’m so sorry,” Athos finally said to break the silence. What exactly he was apologizing for, Athos wasn’t sure. Everything? Or more because he had failed so miserably at hiding it? Had failed so miserably at being the person he was now supposed to be? Or, because he had failed to be what Sylvie deserved? 

“You don’t have to apologize, Athos.” Sighing quietly, he dropped his head and stared at the glove that was still in his hand. “I do. You deserve better than this. You deserve the world, not half of it.” And she did, she truly did. She had never been anything else, besides good to him. Hearing her chuckle again, Athos turned his attention back to her, confused. “Might I remind you where I come from? You have given me more than I would have ever expected of this life. You have given me hope for the future, gave me hope that there was still good out there. You’ve given me memories I look back on fondly, a place I can call home and, most of all, a beautiful daughter. You owe me nothing, Athos. Though, if I may ask you, who is she?” 

That was a question he had not expected, and he wasn’t sure if he should answer it. But, he owed Sylvie at least that much, did he not? 

“Milady de Winter,” his voice was barely a whisper, and his eyes became unfocused as he saw her face in front of him the moment he mentioned her name, “She was the first woman I’ve ever loved. Truly loved. I was happy with her. But then I thought she betrayed me and I was so blind with hurt, and anger, that I selfishly betrayed her far worse than she could’ve ever betrayed me. I forced her into a life no one should live and then resented her for it.” And worst of all, he hadn’t realized any of that until after it was too late. Until after he had thought he had lost her for good. 

“Have you ever gotten a chance to tell her that you’re sorry?”, “No.” 

Sylvie got up from the desk, and gently ran her fingers through Athos’ hair, before kissing the top of his head. “Then I think you should do that. That’s your duty as a gentleman, don’t you think?” Sylvie was right, as always. “And I think it is time you rejoined the Musketeers. You have neglected them far too long, for the sake of us.” 

And so he did. He rejoined the Musketeers, though refused the position of their Captain, despite d’Artagnan insisting. Needless to say, him returning called for a big get-together at the nearby tavern. 

They had been celebrating and drinking for quite some time, when the four of them - Porthos, Aramis, d’Artagnan and himself- finally settled down together at a table. Porthos had only recently returned from the war himself, and Aramis couldn’t be around as much as he wanted to himself, given his position. So getting all four together was a big deal for all of them. And, at least for that night, it felt just like the old times. 

“So,” Porthos started, but decided to take a big gulp out of his cup first, “What made you decide to finally grace us with your _handsome_ presence again? Gettin’ tired of sitting around the house, annoying Sylvie?” Athos shifted his position a little, uncomfortable where this conversation had suddenly turned to. “I guess you could say Sylvie and I had a talk, and we decided it would be the best for me to finally join you guys again. Someone has to make sure you stay out of trouble, right?” That answer earned him a collective groan and roll of their eyes. “That being said, d’Artagnan, I need a place at the garrison for a while, if you don’t mind.” 

That request made all three of them fall silent and all eyes were suddenly on him, questions written all over their faces. “What do you mean..?” It was d’Artagnan who asked the question they all wanted to ask. Athos cleared his throat and started watching the other Musketeers in the tavern, unwilling to look his friends in the eyes. “Sylvie and I decided it would be for the better to go separate ways.” The answer seemed to raise more questions, than it satisfied their curiosity. “What about-”, “I will still be there for the both of them. We have parted as friends, and we will still raise our daughter together to the best of our abilities.” 

For a moment, there was silence and Athos had hoped that was it, but it was Aramis who spoke up now. “What is the reason behind it, Athos? I think we all know you better than that. You don’t just give up on something and walk away. Especially not from Sylvie. There’s more behind it, isn’t there?” 

Of course they would know. He was sitting here with his best friends, the people that had been through his ups and downs with him. That have seen him at his worst and at what had followed after Sylvie. But how was he supposed to explain to them that he was letting go of, most likely, the best thing that could’ve happened to him, for something entirely unpredictable? Not only unpredictable, but entirely irrational and unhealthy. 

Athos stared down at his cup, his fingers uncharacteristically nervous fiddling around with it. “My heart isn’t fully with Sylvie. And it isn’t fair towards her. She deserves my entire attention, affection and love, and I’ve come to learn that that’s something I just can’t seem to offer her.” Aramis stared at him in disbelief, before leaning forward. “You’re not telling me that-”, “That I still love Milady? I do. I’ve never stopped. I’ve just distracted myself and, as much as it pains me to say it, I think that’s what Sylvie only ever was for me.” 

“You can’t seriously be meaning that,” d’Artagnan chimed in, almost sounding angry. “I’m not asking you to understand it. I hardly understand it myself. But I will let you know that I am a grown man and am fully capable of making my own decisions and know the consequences for doing so. I am walking down a road I shouldn’t, but I have tried to live this quiet, peaceful and happy life for the past year. It just isn’t my life. Sylvie was an important step for me and she has helped me a lot, allowed me to heal and become a better man. It is only fair of me to not trap her in a life that would never truly make her happy. Her and I are better off remaining friends that support each other and only want the best for one another. Not as lovers.” 

A strong arm wrapped around his shoulders and Athos was being pulled towards Porthos the next moment. “You know I’ll support you in everything you do, Athos. But if I have to carry you home senseless drunk again, because you’ve tried to drown your sorrow in wine, I _will_  make you live to regret it. Neither of us wants to see you as a broken man again. Just whatever you do, please be careful.” 

Those words made Athos smile a little, despite the very serious threat in them. “I don’t think you guys have much to worry about. I wouldn’t know where to find Milady anyway. She could be anywhere.” 

Suddenly, Porthos pulled his arm away and the three of them exchanged glances with one another. “What?” Athos asked, confused about what was going on. 

Aramis once again glanced at his friends and, when they nodded, he cleared his throat. “She’s working for the Queen.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, here’s the next part already.. I blame being off for two days and nothing else to do (or rather, not wanting to do anything else). Either way, finally. here we go.   
> Also, subtle warning about death/murder? No big deal, but just to be safe.
> 
> Also, so grateful for the support. I really am. It means a lot to me and there's absolutely no better motivation in the world.

The past year had been rough for Milady, to say the least. Not so much because of whom she was working for now - the Queen was certainly one of her more _gentle_ clients - but because of the knowledge that Athos had consciously chosen someone else over her. Now, of course she had married a Duke back in England, but that had only ever been to ensure her survival. Because that’s what everything had always ever been about - her, surviving. 

So him, choosing someone over her, because of the feelings he _dared_ to have for someone that wasn’t her had hurt so deeply, she could feel it in every fiber of her being. And the only way for her to cope with it, had been by rebuilding her walls he had so effectively knocked down during their few brief moments before she had left for England. She had repeated ‘ _I hate him’_  as many times as it took for herself to believe it. As long as it took for her to rekindle the flame of hatred and vengeance that had once been burning so violently inside of her. 

She wanted to hurt him for everything he had ever put her through. Death would be too gentle, too kind; no, she wanted to see him suffer. 

But, despite knowing Athos was back in Paris, she never made an effort to seek him out. She always told herself it was because she was being kept too busy by the Queen. With the war still raging on, Milady had managed to establish herself as a very valuable asset. After all, extracting information from men had always been easier with a warm body and the feeling of euphoria, than it had ever been with the feeling of a cold blade against their throat. And maybe - at least in part - that was true, but deep down she knew she avoided it for fear what she would do if she saw him again. For fear what would happen to _her_ if she saw him happy and content with a woman that wasn’t her. 

So she clung to every assignment, as if it were her life essence. Which it might as well have been. While Athos had drowned himself in alcohol to forget, her means of escape was killing men for that short moment of bliss she got from the thought of having rid the world of yet another disgusting creature.

Until she remembered she had sworn this life off, no longer wanted to be this vile version of herself she had become. But it was Athos’ fault she had to carry on. It was Athos’ fault she had to become this person in the first place. It was Athos’ fault for not meeting her at the crossroads. Athos’ fault for choosing his duty over her. Athos’ fault for falling in love with another. Athos’ fault for choosing the other over her. 

It was his fault for showing her the beauty of life, what if feels like to live, rather than to just survive. His fault for making her feel like the most important thing in the world. His fault for giving her a taste of love, true love. His fault for making promises. His fault for breaking them. His fault for taking it all away again. His fault for taking away the only thing she had ever truly cared for - him. 

_It was his fault. Everything._

Her grip tightened around the hilt of the blade in her hand as anger flared up inside of her. She hated the waiting game; it gave her too much unoccupied time. Too much time to think, _to feel._

Closing her eyes for a moment, Milady took a deep breath and pulled herself back together. _Focus._

The Queen had sent Milady to a village at the French-Spanish border. Recently, a band of Spanish bandits had been terrorising the rather inconspicuous looking village. Nothing the Crown could, or would, usually concern itself with, but it was strategic important. Not so much because of it’s location, but because it was a vital supplier of gun powder for their troops in the close proximity. 

So they had to be stopped before they could find out about exactly that, and possibly report back to the Spanish. Needless to say, it had to be quiet. If they were to ride up with a group of soldiers, it would raise suspicions as to why the French were so adamant about protecting this village. So, of course, it was the perfect job for her. No one was better in working in the shadows than her. 

After scouting the area for a day, Milady had managed to locate their camp and had been surveilling them for quite some time now. there was six of them, and she knew she couldn’t take them on all at once, as skilled as she may be. So she had to wait, be patient, pluck them off one at a time. 

She had her first chance when one of them walked off to go take a piss. Drunk and stumbling, he had to keep his balance by supporting himself on a tree. Quietly sneaking up behind him, Milady unceremoniously slit his throat and took a step back, as to not get her dress ruined with his blood. 

_Too easy._

Sighing, she wiped the blade on the guy’s clothes and turned back around to return to her previous position. As all of them were drunk, neither of them particularly cared about one of their men net returning. Instead, they all joked about him having probably stumbled face-first into the dirt and then just fallen asleep. Rolling her eyes, all Milady could think was ‘ _Men_ ’. 

After what felt like a lifetime, another one of the guys excused himself and Milady had just started following him, when she heard the clash of steel on steel. Confused, she turned around to see what was going on. Were they so drunk that they started fighting each other now? But nothing had hinted towards it just now. No arguing, no fighting, nothing. 

When her target swung around and scrambled back, sword in his hand, she knew something wasn’t the way it was supposed to be. Making sure she stuck to the shadows, she made her way back as well, alert and attentive. 

Someone else had invaded their camp and was taking them on all at once - successfully. One after the other dropped to the ground like flies, leaving Milady utterly confused, but mesmerized at the same time.That fighting style seemed so familiar. Like she had seen it countless times before. 

When the fighting stopped, the bandits scattered all over the ground, she knew why. Unintentionally, she had taken a few steps forward, leaving the security of her shadows. 

“Athos..” 

The Musketeer’s head shot up and their eyes met. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boy, this one took me way longer than I would have liked it to and I kind of feel like it's all over the place. Or maybe that's me and my lack of concentration, hard to tell. Either way, here it is. Their happy reunion. I promise the next part won't take me another week (I hope).

Despite now knowing that Milady was very much within his reach, Athos never made a conscious effort to seek her out. But - and this wasn’t easy to admit to himself - he was scared. After all, they hadn’t exactly parted on good terms the last time they had seen each other. 

On the contrary; it had been during that brief, yet very intense meeting that Athos had consciously chosen Sylvie over Milady - and unconsciously accused her of something she hadn’t done, making it clear he still mistrusted her and maybe even felt she couldn’t change after all.

Something he knew must’ve hurt deeply. Maybe to the point of her reverting back to hating him - which he certainly deserved. But a year had passed since then and how was he to apologize for that? He couldn’t just appear in front of her with an ‘I’m sorry’ and hope she would forgive him. 

Living in uncertainty about what she felt was easier than to know their love had now been lost for good. 

So he had dedicated his life to the Musketeers and his daughter, keeping himself occupied every minute of the day with either one of those two. And given how their regiment had been thinned out due to the war, he was certainly being kept busy. This time around, he had been sent on a lone mission by d’Artagnan. They needed one of the best in their ranks to get rid of some bandits in a town at the Spanish border. Since d’Artagnan was now the Captain and spent most his time at the garrison or Louvre, Athos was the clear choice. So after he had been briefed on the details, he had grabbed a horse and taken off. 

Once he had arrived in the town, he had made sure his horse was taken care of, before he went to investigate. The information he had gotten was scarce; all he knew was that he was to get rid of some Spanish bandits in a strategically important town for France, that it was a direct order from the Queen and it had to be taken care of immediately and quietly.

Fortunately, it wasn’t too difficult to gain intel from the residents. Though the exact location was still something he had to find out on his own, he at least had a place where he could start.

What Athos did _not_  expect, was to run into the one person he had tried to avoid. The person he was so afraid of facing. So when he heard his name being uttered after taking care of those bandits, in the voice he had almost forgotten what it sounded like, his head shot up in surprise. 

And there she was. Standing in the middle of this damned forest, as beautiful as ever, almost like a dream. And the temptation to walk up to her and fall onto his knees to beg for forgiveness was great.

But before he could even think about moving, Milady had already walked towards him, closing the distance that had been between them. Though certainly not with the same intention Athos had had in his mind. 

Next thing he knew was that he had been forced back against a tree, blade against his throat, her eyes burning with anger and resentment and every possible emotion of hatred he could think of. “What are you doing here?” Her voice was cold and filled with such a harshness that it knocked the breath out of his lungs and made his knees week for a moment.

There had been a lot of unkind words shared between them in the past, but none of them had felt like this. And Athos knew it was his own doing, his own fault and no one else’s. He had broken her heart time and time again, he deserved no kindness.

“Queen’s orders. I was supposed to get rid of them,” Athos muttered and nodded towards the bodies on the floor. For a moment, there was a flicker of confusion in her face, though it passed as quickly as it had appeared. “You’re not a Musketeer anymore. Why should you be sent to take care of anything?” 

“I rejoined the regiment not too long ago.” No matter how many times he ended up with a blade at his throat, he just couldn’t get used to it. And it certainly made thinking a little more difficult. “All of our experienced men are at the front. We mainly have cadets left and this needed to be taken care of quickly and efficiently. So here I am.” 

“Here you are,” she repeated, though not without a hint of bitterness in her voice. Regardless, she slowly lowered the blade and made it disappear somewhere within the folds of her dress. Hesitantly, Athos relaxed his body and took a small step forward. “But why are you here?” 

She had turned around and was about to walk away, before she stopped and glanced over her shoulder towards him. “Queen’s orders.” With that, she kept on walking. 

Athos was so preoccupied with the question as to why the Queen would send them both here at the same time, that Milady had almost disappeared by the time he looked back up. “Wait- Anne!” 

Upon hearing her name, she turned around so swiftly and almost charged towards him, blade back in hand again, that Athos stumbled a step back to not actually get stabbed this time. “Don’t you dare call me that!” Clearly startled, he couldn’t find the words to ask her why, but she seemed to know exactly what was going through his head. “Anne is dead. She died on that noose. I am Milady de Winter. You ought to remember that.” 

With that, she once again turned around, blade disappearing within her dress. “Farewell, Athos.”


End file.
